


Home Found

by matan4il



Category: Looking (TV)
Genre: Gratuitous Smut, M/M, One Shot, One True Pairing, PWP, Post Movie, childhood bedroom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 04:06:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7829818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matan4il/pseuds/matan4il
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sex acts tend to blend together over time, Patrick is well aware of that, but somehow with Richie, they never have. In his teenage bedroom, on the small bed in which he used to jerk off miserably and wonder whether the future will ever hold anything more than that, he's wordlessly aware that this time is gonna stand out still.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Found

**Author's Note:**

> For reasons not up to me, this is unbeta'd. Any and all mistakes are mine, please feel free to point stuff out to me. Am always looking to improve.

Sex acts tend to blend together over time, Patrick is well aware of that, but somehow with Richie, they never have. In his teenage bedroom, on the small bed in which he used to jerk off miserably and wonder whether the future will ever hold anything more than that, he's wordlessly aware that this time is gonna stand out still. 

Patrick is so entwined with Richie right now, he doubts they could ever untangle their mess of limbs from each other and if he's honest, he's not sure he wants to. This slow, deep fucking is too much and everything at once, leaving a part of Patrick to wish that they could spend the rest of their lives in this moment. Where the wish has to retreat in the face of reality, Patrick leans forward and intently kisses Richie, trying to draw him in deeper. His boyfriend takes this as an opportunity to slightly shift his angle and thrust upwards again, leaving Patrick to gasp anew even as he continues to drink Richie in.

They were standing right next to the bed and it was both unexpected and natural when Richie, after being shown around this room, suddenly held Patrick's gaze and then, coming closer, his face before they started kissing. It began tenderly but grew intense very quickly with both grabbing each other and within a split second Patrick knew that this was indeed about to happen, that they were going to make love in the house in which he grew up. Richie's hands moved on to Patrick's body, undressing him, stripping him of all defenses. He never felt as bare as he did just then, in this room with its pale colors and the warm afternoon sunlight pouring in through the wide windows, with its multitude of testimonies to Patrick's oldest, most secret dreams. His own hands, he found, were relieving Richie of his clothes and while their actions should have been hurried, they weren't. Patrick had the odd sense that even if anyone were to hear them, it would make no difference. This moment was theirs and it was always meant to happen.

Naked and clinging to each other, without breaking their kissing, Richie picked him up and had Patrick wrap legs around Richie's own torso, arms around his shoulders. He breached Patrick with one finger while holding him up, still kissing him, and then impatiently dug in another one before lowering the man in his arms onto his cock. It took Patrick's breath away and a small whimper escaped him, only half audible through the messy kissing. He felt completely surrounded by Richie's power and calmness, the headiest mixture he's ever come across. All he could do was cling on to dear life as Richie moved them to an upright position on the bed, supporting and engulfing Patrick's frame with his thighs, his arms running across the legs folded around his hips, up to a sinewy back, to sensitive nipples, rubbing and teasing, extracting moans from both men, then going back down again, sporadically punctuating a movement with a thrust. It's all very unrushed and yet utterly determined to get to Patrick's very core. Getting back together has not quenched their thirst for each other and sometimes Patrick thinks that even if they were to melt into one, it would still not be enough for how close to one another they want and need to be.

Patrick lost track of time, of how long Richie has been fucking him just like that, with those small, powerful motions of his pelvis, with his tongue, using his arms and legs to immerse Patrick in his own body completely, to shift weight and angles in surprising ways that cause the sensation of being penetrated by Richie all over again, to stimulate Patrick's dick through the friction between their bodies to the point where it's becoming unbearable. There's a tear or two mixed in by this point with the sweat and Patrick can't even properly kiss Richie back now, just leave his mouth open, panting, to be explored and thoroughly permeated. He feels the man he loves everywhere, top to insides to toes, and he's not quite trembling, he's not quite begging for anything, but the noises he makes certainly echo a plea and his hands desperately cling to the back of Richie's head, to the side of his face that for a second Patrick has to think of a rite of worship. 

Richie feels him and moves Patrick up his shaft and, never fully exiting him, uses this to lay them down, covering Patrick's body with his and in one go forcefully sinking all the way back in. There are going to be dark red marks on Richie's back, but Patrick can't bring himself to care. He uses what little strength he still has to further invigorate their lovemaking's now frantic pace with his nails and the tiny, encouraging motions of his lower body, increasing the heat from their bodies on his penis, taking Richie inside himself deeper still, and while he's too exhausted to also repeatedly mutter the word 'harder', his sharp exhales express this sentiment precisely.

Richie breaks off their kiss for the first time in all this while in order to whisper 'Pato' into his man's skin, right next to his ear, and at that Patrick comes like it's the completion of everything, of all he's ever felt, of all he's ever yearned for and if there's peace in this life, he knows he's found it in that instance. There's a broken noise that comes from right above him, the thrusts that split him up are more erratic and he clenches himself as much as he can in order to drain Richie into him. There's a hoarse growl and a few more punctuated stabs followed by a liquid warmth inside and Richie softly letting out a curse in Spanish before collapsing on top of him. Patrick weakly puffs out a splinter of a laugh and brings his arms up despite his fatigue to hug Richie. Patrick's lightly kissing the side of his neck when he hears the three most meaningful words he knows and, over flooded with a sense of awe over how fortunate he doesn't deserve to be, he reciprocates, eyes fixed on Richie's, shining his delight in the truth he's uttering.

They lie there for a long time, embracing and whispering idle words, occasionally exchanging another kiss, when Patrick has a look around. This may have been the room where he grew up, but for the first time in a very long while, it's also a place that feels like home.


End file.
